12 HOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECTION
I - """n arrnON SERIAL I
Copyright, 113,
B7
George Barr
McCutcheon
By Geo. Barr
McCutcheon.
A Fool and His Money
JTaVWaC J-Jl-r
i
CHAPTER I
I MKE NO EFFORT TO DEFEND
MYSELF.
KAM quite sure it was my Uncle
Rilas who said that I was a fool. If
memory-serves me well he relieved
himself of".;that conviction in the
presence of my mother whose
brother he was at a time when I was
least competent to aeknowledge1iis
wisdom and most arrogant in assert
in? mv own. I was a freshman in col
lege: a fact or condition, perhaps
which should serve as an excuse iui
With of us. I possessed another
uncle, incidentally, and while I am
now convinced that he must have felt
as Uncle Iiilas did about it, he was
one of Uiuae who suffer in silence.
The nearest he ever got to openly re
senting me as a freshman was when
he admitted, as if it weer a crime
that he too had been in college and
v-new less when he came away than
when he entered. Which is a mild
u-ay of putting it, I am sure, consider
ing the fact that he remained there
for 23 years as a distinguished mem
ber of the faculty.
I assume, therefore, that it was
Uncle Rilas who orally convicted me,
an assumption justified to come ex
tent by putting wo and two together
after the poor old geUleman was iaia
away for his long sleep. He had been
very emphatic in his belief that a fool
and his money a-e soon parted. Up to
the time of his death 1 had been In no
way qualified to dispute this ancient
theory. In theory, no doubt, I was
the kind of a fool he referred to, but
In practice I was quite an untried
novice. It is very hard for even a
fool to part with something he hasn't
got. True, I parted with the little I
had at college with noteworthy
promptness about the middle of each
term, but that could hardly have been
polled a fair test for the adnge. Not
until Uncle Rilas died and left me all
of his money ran I able to demon
strate that only dead men and fools
part with it. The distinction lies in
the capacity for enjoyment while the
sensation lasts. Dead men part with
It because they have to, fools because
they want to. i !
In any event, Uncle Rilas did not
leave me his money until my fresh
man days were far behind me, where
in lies the solace that he may have
outgrown an opinion while I was
going through the same process. At
23 1 confessed that all freshmen were
Insufferable, and immediately after
ward took my degree and went out
into the world to convince It tnat
seniors are by no means adolescent.
Having successfully passed the age
of reason, I too felt myself successfully
qualified to look with scorn upon all
creatures employed in the business
of getting an education. There were
times when I wondered how on earth
I could have stooped so low as to be
a freshman. I still have the dis
quieting fear that my uncle did not
modify his opinion of me until I was
thoroughly over being a senior. You
Will note that I do not say he changed
his opinion. MoCtfy is the word.
His original opinion of me, as a
freshman, of course was uttered
when I, at the age of 18, picked out
my walk in life, so to speak. After
considering everything, I decided to be
a literary man. A novelist or a play
wright, I hadn't much of a choice
between the two, or perhaps a jour
nalist lieing a journalist, of course,
was preliminary; a sort of makeshift.
At any rate, I was going to be a writer.
My Uncle Rilas, a hard headed cus
tomer who had read Scott as a boy
and the Wall Street news as a man
without being misled by either was
scornful. He said that I would out
grow it, there was some consolation in
that. He even admitted that when he
was 17 he wanted to be an actor.
There you are, said he! I declared
there was a great difference between
being an actor and being a writer,
(inly handsome men can be actors,
while I well, by nature I was doomed
to be. nothing more engaging than a
novelist, who doesn't have to spoil an
Illusion by showing himself in public.
Besides, I argued, novelists make
a great deal of money, and play
wrights too, for that matter. He said
in renlv that an ordinarily vigorous
washerwoman could make more
moiuv than the average novelist, and
v aiivin had n stocking without a
hole to keep it in, which was more to
the point.
Now that I come to think of it, it
was Uncle Rilas who oracularly pre
judged me, and not Uncle John, who
Was by way of being a sort of literary
chap himself and therefore lamentably
unqualified to guide me in any course
whatsoever, especially as he had all
he could do to keep his own wolf at
bay without encouraging mine, ana
who, besides teaching good English,
loved it wisely and too well. I think
Uncle Rilas would have new uncie
John nn to me as an example a
scarecrow, you might say If it hadn't
been for the fact that he loved mm in
spite of his English. He must have
loved me in spite of mine.
My mother felt in her heart that I
nnrht to he a doctor or a preacher,
but she wasn't mean: she was positive
I could succeed as a writer if I set
my mind to it. She was also sure that
I could be president of the United
States or perhaps even a bishop. We
were Episcopalian.
When I was 27 my first short story
onneared In a magazine of consider
able we.ieht. due to its auverusing
pages, but my Uncle Rilas didn't read
it until I had convinced him that the
honorarium amounted to three hun
dred dollars. Even then I was obliged
to promise him a glimpse of the
,heeif when I trot it. Somewhat be
lated, it came in the course of three
or four months with a rather tart let
ter in which I was given to under
stand that it wasn't quite the thing to
pester a great publishing house witn
queries of the kind I had been so
persistent in propounding. But at
last Uncle Rilas saw the check and
waa nronerlv Impressed. He took back
what he had said about the washer
woman, but gave me a little further
advice concerning the stocking.
In course of time my first novel ap
nea red. It was a love story. Uncle
Rilas read the first five chapters and
then sklDDed over to the last page.
Then he began it all over again and
sat up nearly all night to finish it. The
nt iiav he called it "trash but in
vited me to have luncheon with him
at the Metropolitan Club and rather
noisily introduced me to a few old
,.rtie of his who were not sufficient
ly interested in me to enquire what
roir name wm a trlflinir detail he had
overlooked In presenting me as his
nephew but who did ask me to nave
a drink.
A month later he died. He left me
a fortune, which was all the more
Btneirerinir In view of the circumstance
that he had seen me named for my
Uncle John and not for him.
It 'was not long afterward that I
made a perfect fool of myself by fall
ing in love. It turned out very baaiy.
I can't Imagine what got into me to
want to commit bigamy after I had
already proclaimed myself to be ir
revocably wedded to my profession.
Nevertheless I deliberately coveted
the experience, and would have at
tained to it no doubt had It not been
for the young woman In the case.
She would have none of me, but with
considerable independence of spirit
and, I must say, noteworthy acumen,
elected to wed a splendid looking fel
low who clerked in a jeweler's shop
in Fifth avenue. They had been en
gaged for several years, lt seems, and
my swollen fortune failed to disturn
her sense of fidelity. Perhaps you
will be interested enough in a girl
who could refuse to share a fortune
of som ethine like three hundred thou
sand dollars (not counting me, of
course) to let me tell you brieny
who and what she was. She was my
typist. That is to say, she did piece
work for me as I happened to provioe
substance for her active fingers to
work upon when she wasn't typing
law briefs in the regular sort of grind.
Not only was she an able typist, but
she was an exceedingly wholesome,
handsome and worthy young woman.
I think I came to like her with genu
ine resolution when I discovered that
she could spell my name correctly
and had the additional knack of unit
ing mv Htrav infinitives with stub
born purposefulness as well as the
ability to administer my grammar
with tact and discretion.
Unfortunately she loved the jewel
er's clerk. She tried to convince me,
with a sweetness I shall never forget,
that she was infinitely better suited
to be a jeweler's wife than to be a
weight upon the neck of a genius.
Moreover, when I foolishly mentioned
my snug fortune as an extra induce
ment, she. Dut me smartly In my place
by remarking that fortunes like wine
are made in a day while really excel
lent Jeweler's clerks are something
like thirty years In the making.
Which, I take it, was as much as to
say that there is always room for Im
provement in a man. I confess I was
somewhat disturbed by one ot ner
eentlest remarks. She seemed to be
repeating my Uncle Rilas, although I
am quite sure she had never heard of
him. She armed that the fortune
might take wings and fly away, and
then what would be to pay! or course,
it was Derfectly clear to me, stupm
as I must have been, that she pre
ferred the jeweler's clerk to a lor-tune.
t wan loth tn lose her as a typist.
The exact point where I appear to
have marie a fnol nf mvself was when
I first took it into my head that I
could make something else of her. i
not only lost a competent typist, but
I lost a great deal of sleep, and had
to go abroad for awhile, as men do
when they find our unpleasant things
about themselves in just that way.
I gave her a wedding present, a
verv costlv and magnificent dining-
room set, fondly hoping that the
Jeweler's clerk would experience a
great deal of trouble In living up to
it. At first I had thought of a Marie
Antoinette bedroom set, but gave it
nn when T enntemnlated the cost.
Tf vnu will nardon me. I shall not
go any further into this lamentable
love affair. I submit, in extenuation,
that people do not care to be regaled
with the heartaches or pa?t auairs,
thev are only interested in those which
appear to be in the process of active
development or retrogression. Burnee
to say, I was terribly cut up over trie
way my first serious affair of the
heart turned out, and tried my best
tn hate mvself for letting it worry
me. Somehow I was able to attribute
the fiasco to an inborn sense of shy
ness that has always made me faint
hearted, dilatory and unagressive. No
doubt if I had gone about it rough
hnn and fierv I could have played
hob with the excellent jeweier s
peace of mind, to say the least, but
alas! I succeeded only In approach
ing at a time when there was nothing
left for me to do but to start him off
in life with a mild handicap in the
shape of a dining-room set that would
not go with anything else he had in
the apartment.
still some men. no matter how shy
and procrastinating they may be or
reluctant, for that matter are uoomeu
tn have love affairs thrust upon them,
as you will perceive if you follow the
course of this narrative to tne outer
end.
In order that you may know me
when you see me struggling through
these pages, as one might struggle
through a morass on a dark night, I
shall take the liberty of describing
myself in the best light possible under
the circumstances.
I am a talllsh sort of person, mod
erately homely, and not quite 35. I
am strong, but not athletic. What
ever physical development 1 possess
was acquired through the ancient
and honorable game of golf and in
swimming. In both of these sporis i
am quite proficient, My nose is rath
er long and inquisitive, ana my cnin
is considered to be singularly firm for
one who has no ambition to become a
hero. My thatch is abundant and
quite black. Iunderstand that my
eyes are green when I affect a green
tie, light blue when I put on one i
that delicate hue, and curiously yel
low when I wear brown about my
neck. Not that I really need them,
hut I wear nose classes when read
ing: to save my eyes, of course. I
sometimes wear them In public, wiin
a very fetching and Imposing black
band draping across my expanse of
shirt front. I find this to be most
effective when sitting in a box at the ,
theater. My tailor Is a good one. I
shave myself clean with an old-fash
ioned razor and find it to ue quite
safe and tractable. My habits are con
sidered rather good, and I sang nass
In the glee club. Bo mere ou me.
Not quite what you could call a lady
killer, or even a lady s man, i luncy
you'll say.
You will be surprised to learn, how
ever, that secretly I am of a rather
rnmantlc. imaginative turn of mind.
Since earliest chtlhood I have con
sorted with princesses and ladies ot
high degree, mentally, of course,
and my bosom companions have keen
knights of valour and longevity. Noth
ing could have suited me better than
to have been born in a feudal castle
few centuries ago, from which I
should have sallied forth in full nr-
mour on the slightest provocation ana
returned in glory when the-e was no
one left in the neighborhood to pro
voke me.
Even now, as I make this astound
ing statement, I can't help thinking
of that confounded jewelers' dork.
At 35 I am still unattached and, so
far as I can tell, unloved. What more
could a sensible, experienced bachelor
expect than that? Unless, of course,
he aspired to be a monk or a hermit,
in which case he reasonably could be
i,r of himself if not of others.
Tjist winter In London my mother
went to a ood bit of trouble to set my
cap for a lady who seemed in every
way qualified to look alter an otny
,n aa he should be looked after from
a mother's point of view, and 1 declare
to you I had a wretchedly close can
of it. My poor mother, thinking it
was quite settled, sailed for America,
leaving me entirely unprotected,
a-rereunon I succeeded in making my
escape. Heavens knows I had no
desperate longing to visit Palestine hi
that particular time, but I journeyed
thither without a qualm of regret, and
thereby avoided the surrender with
out love or honor.
(To be Continued Next Week.)
Cleanliness of Cement
A cement trough for the hog lot Is
one of the greatest little Improvements
about the farm. It is easy to make,
easy to clean, never gets out of order
and is readily disinfected. You can
build It yourself. Another and better
arrangement Is to have an automatic
waterlnir device with a tank made nt
galvanized iron, mounted on a sled,
and movable from place to place.
Pennsylvania has about 7, BOO, 000
acres ot timbcrland, one-eighth "f
which Is owned by the state. The,
total value of the states timber is
1139,000,000.
HOTEL FRYE & SEATTLE
A Class A Building (11 Stories) of Steel, Concrete, Marble,
Hollow Tile and Brick
IXT" IT CAN'T BURN -
'FRYE SERVICE" Means the Best That Well-Paid and Com
petent Help (and plenty of it) Can Give
RATES THAT ARE RIGHT
$1.00 Per Day and Up
Every Room an Outside Room
LOCATION
Only Three Blocks From Depots and Docks